


paradoxal views on the nature of humanity in relation to a species that developed millions of years before it

by ApatheticRobots



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: But it's totally chaste dont worry. theres nothing below the belt, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Romance, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApatheticRobots/pseuds/ApatheticRobots
Summary: Different views on learning new things from two very different people, and a discussion regarding the strange contradictions of humanity's tolerance for the unknown.
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Ratchet, Rafael "Raf" Esquivel & Optimus Prime, Rafael "Raf" Esquivel & Ratchet, William Fowler & Optimus Prime
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	paradoxal views on the nature of humanity in relation to a species that developed millions of years before it

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd and written in a day idk. was just thinking about it
> 
> fowler isnt homophobic by the way dont worry he just doesnt want any of his subordinates asking how the robots fuck
> 
> also the working title for this was "the inherent homoeroticism of two old guys calling each other "old friend""

Eventually, Fowler thought, a man got to an age where there was very little that could surprise him anymore.

Especially when that man did what Fowler did, working with all the worst things of the world that the government liked to pretend didn’t exist. He saw more weird shit in a day than a lot of folks could say they’d seen in their lifetime. He couldn’t afford to be surprised anymore, not with his line of work. A moment of confusion because of some new _thing_ could very well mean him getting stepped on. Or crushed. Or knocked off a cliff or something.

Jeez, this place was a hazard to his health.

In all the worst ways, too. Not just because it was physically dangerous. But because despite him saying moments ago that there was very little which surprised him, the Autobots seemed pretty damn determined to test his limits.

So. Aliens were real, and they were giant robots that could turn into cars. Or, rather, any vehicle (and sometimes things that were not vehicles), according to the guy in charge.

Speaking of the guy in charge. Optimus Prime was certainly a character. Like a storybook hero brought to life. The physical interpretation of a motivating speech. He simultaneously had the air of the most battle-hardened general, and a particularly excitable kindergarten teacher. Fowler had to admit, as much as the guy sometimes pissed him off with how much he just didn’t seem to _get_ certain parts of Earth culture, he couldn’t help but respect the Prime. ( _The_ Prime. It wasn’t just his name, it was a title too.)

The existence of aliens alone was not enough to unsettle him. Hell, NASA had been working on compiling evidence for years, and Area 51-- while it did not contain captured alien species that were being experimented on-- was real, and was dedicated to the search for extraterrestrial life. And so far they had found some… pretty interesting stuff out there. So aliens? Not super far-fetched.

No, the part that never ceased to catch him off guard was just how utterly _human_ the aliens acted sometimes. Sure, they were thirty-something-foot-tall machines, but sometimes Fowler would just watch them talk and interact amongst themselves and if he ignored their appearances, he could’ve been watching his coworkers or something. Any group of humans. 

It was… a little disconcerting.

  
Aliens were supposed to be _different._ Hell, the word “alien” basically just meant something foreign. Outside the norm. They were supposed to act differently than humans, be an example of how life on another world would develop.

Apparently, the answer to “how does life on another world develop” was “exactly the God damn same as it did on Earth.”

With minor variations, obviously. Again-- thirty-foot-tall killing machines. But their behaviors, the way they spoke, acted, the fact that they had emotions. That they made friends. _That_ was all utterly human behavior.

  
Or, Fowler thought, as he realized he was getting dangerously close to existential territory, maybe _they_ didn’t evolve the same way humans did. Maybe humans evolved the same way _they_ did. Because Cybertronians were _old_ , right? The way these mechs talked, they made it sound like a million years was nothing at all. A “little while” to them was a couple centuries. They existed long before humanity, and there was a damn good chance they would outlast it. 

That was kind of a weird thought. That rather than thinking “hey, these aliens are pretty human,” he ought to have been thinking “damn, we humans are pretty alien.”

He didn’t realize, though, just how deep it ran.

For instance, he did not think that the giant murder machines, who were-- as far as he could tell, anyways-- exclusively technology-based, knew what the hell kissing was. But, evidently, they did. He was certain, because he’d just walked into the base to see Prime with the ambulance medic (Hatchet? Ratchet? Yeah, he was pretty sure it was Ratchet) pinned against one of the giant tables they’d put together from scrap metal, and what they were doing really couldn’t be mis-identified as anything but what it was. 

“Jesus,” he said, mostly on instinct once he realized what he just walked in on, and at the sound both Ratchet and Prime looked up sharply at him.

  
“Ah,” said Optimus Prime, not moving away from where he still had the medic hiked up against a table. “Agent Fowler. We were not expecting you for several more cycles-- er-- hours. Is there something you need?” 

“Nope,” he said, throwing his hands up and turning on his heel to head back to the elevator. “It can wait.” Then he stopped, because God damnit this was still his job, and sighed, turning back and walking over to lean on the railing. He braced himself for a disgustingly uncomfortable conversation. “Actually, yeah. I got some questions.”

Nodding and finally stepping away to let his medic free (at which point said medic promptly vacated the area with an embarrassed mutter), Optimus looked up at Fowler and nodded. “While I cannot promise I will have all the answers you seek, I will do my best to sate your curiosity as well as I am able.”

Fowler sighed. “Okay. First question, are you two,” he said, gesturing between them, “involved?”

“...Involved?”

“Christ,” he muttered. He really did not get paid near enough to have to deal with this shit. “Are you and the medic dating, Prime? In a relationship?”

The Prime seemed to understand the last part at least, as he perked up slightly. “Ah! I understand now.” He nodded. “Yes. Ratchet and I are partners, Conjunx Endurae, and have been for several millennia at this point.” He lowered his head, and the lights of his eyes went a little bit darker, and suddenly Fowler felt like he’d just been shot with some kind of stun gun. He didn’t really tend to believe in the “power of God” shit that Optimus liked to tote, but being stared at like that, he suddenly understood where the big guy was coming from. “Is that going to be a problem, Agent Fowler?”

“Uh, no,” he said, willing himself not to stutter. He was better than this. He would _not_ be caught any more off his guard than he already was. “Nope, no problem here. Just… curious.” Technically, in _their_ military, it would’ve been against the rules. Prime and Ratchet would have been considered different ranks. But the ranking system clearly didn’t work the same way for the Cybertronian populous. “Conjunx Endurae. Is that anything like, uh… marriage?”

At his assurance that there would be no problems, Prime’s piercing gaze faded, and Fowler felt like he could move his legs again. “I believe ‘marriage,’ as you said, would be the closest comparison. Two mecha who are Conjunx Endurae-- the singular being Conjunx Endura-- are bonded for life, and the responsibility for their care falls to the other. For instance, if one is injured to the point of incoherency, the other has permission to make medical decisions on their behalf. The relationship between Conjunx is romantic in nature, although the platonic equivalent is known as being Amica Endurae, and is seen as no less important or valuable than the former.” He tilted his head. “Does that make sense, Agent Fowler?”

“Yes,” he said, only kind of getting it. “Thanks for the explanation, Prime. Second question, I guess, uh.” There was no good way to ask a guy “so, how do you and your husband have sex, considering you’re giant robots?” so instead of trying to figure it out he just decided he really, really didn’t need to know. “Second question isn’t a question, I guess. But rather a… request.”

“I am listening.”

“If we ever get any other humans frequenting this place,” Fowler said, hesitating, not wanting to be struck with that biting look from the Prime again, “do you think you two could keep that kind of thing on the down-low?”

  
Optimus frowned. 

Shit. “It’s not because there’s anything _wrong_ with it,” he quickly amended. “We haven’t got any kind of problem with you loving who you love. That’s not… the issue.” He sighed. “The issue is that humans tend to have a hard time grasping that species other than themselves can feel emotions, especially such complex ones as love, and such an, uh, _obvious display_ might make them feel uncomfortable.”

The Prime was still frowning, but no longer looked like he was about to start glaring holes at Fowler again. “I see,” he said, slowly. “I… understand, Agent Fowler. We will do our level best to keep things… discreet.”

“Thanks, Prime.” He turned and headed towards the elevator.

“Agent Fowler, what is it you came down here for in the first place?”

“Eh,” Fowler said, jamming his thumb against the button that would bring him back to the surface and _away_ from all this nonsense. “I forgot.”

* * *

Something Raf had decided a very long time ago was that he would never stop letting himself be surprised.

  
He thought it was important, keeping things in one’s life unknown. While sometimes he _hated_ surprises-- usually when they required his involvement and he didn’t have time to prepare-- being surprised was a lot different. Plenty of things could surprise him, and they didn’t even have to be all that substantial. For instance, he was always surprised every time he got a new prescription for his glasses at how clear everything was. By the time he got the next change in prescription, he’d forgotten what it was like all over again, and being able to look up at the trees and pick out every individual leaf was always exciting.

Really, the existence of aliens was not surprising. It was a big universe, and Raf had spent too long staring up at the stars to not think there was even the slightest possibility of another sentient species living somewhere among them. So learning that aliens were real? While surprising, because he’d never had proof before, it was not that… _surprising_ of a surprise. If that made sense.

It made sense to Raf at least.

Which was the important part, or so he had always been told. That so long as Raf understood what he was about, everyone else could choke. (Miko’s advice tended to be… well-meaning, but usually a bit more inclined towards violence than Raf would’ve liked.)

The more surprising part of the alien encounter was his ability to understand them so easily. And not just in a “he could decipher Bee’s Cybertronian Binary where no other human could” way. But in the kind of way where he almost got the ‘bots better than he got the humans. Felt like he could understand them better than he could understand his peers.

He’d never really had… friends. Jack counted, sort of, but only because he was a couple years older and Raf’s mom worked long hours and they lived close enough that Jack could bike over to his house and babysit when his mom worked late. So they were friends more because of convenience. And Miko wouldn’t have even looked at him if they hadn’t both gotten involved with the ‘bots. Folks his age didn’t tend to make a whole lot of sense.

But he got the ‘bots. Which was why he kind of thought they couldn’t really surprise him anymore.

Sometimes he ran across things like that. Stuff that just became too predictable for it to ever be anything new. And yeah, giant alien robots were probably not the best thing to assume such a thing about. But, to be fair, he’d spent a _lot_ of time around them recently.

So he was pretty excited to figure out there was still more about them he didn’t know.

For instance, he did not know that they really had a concept of romance. At least, in any way similar to the way humans did it. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they could love, because he definitely did. He spent enough time hanging out with Bee to know that the yellow scout loved him, and he listened well enough to know that Arcee had loved Cliffjumper, even if their dynamics were vastly different. He had just gone with the assumption that their methods of romance were different than human ones.

Apparently, he had been wrong. 

Really, he should have known better than to walk into the room without knocking. But he’d just finished putting together a really nice piece of code, and he wanted Ratchet to take a look at it and critique his work because as much of a grump as the medic was, he was _really_ smart. A lot smarter than he liked to pretend. And while he might’ve been honest about his judgement of Raf’s work, he was never mean about it, and his criticism was always constructive. He wasn’t at the console he normally worked at, so Raf headed down the hallway and further into the base to check and see if he was in his room instead.

Raf had gotten excited, and when he got excited he tended to forget the rules he was supposed to follow, like how it was rude to walk into someone’s space without asking if it was okay. So instead of doing said polite thing, he instead smacked the panel near the floor that had been installed specifically for human use and trotted into the room as soon as the door slid open, laptop clutched in his hands.

“Ratchet!” he called. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you about--”

He stopped short. Standing near the desk, arms wrapped around each other, were Optimus and Ratchet, engaged in what was clearly a kiss. They both looked up sharply at Raf’s entrance, and there was a brief flicker of fear on Ratchet’s face. 

“Rafael,” he choked out, and Optimus looked at him in concern. “What… Don’t you know it’s rude to walk into someone’s space without knocking??”

“I know!” Raf held up his laptop. “I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to bother you guys, really. We can talk later. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He started to slowly back out of the room, fully intent on asking Bee for an immediate ride home so he didn’t have to face the two of them when they eventually showed up in the main common area again.

But a quiet “wait” from Ratchet stopped him. He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Did you…” Ratchet gestured at where he and Optimus were still holding onto each other. “It’s not… weird?”

“I mean,” Raf flushed. “It’s _kinda_ weird, cause you guys are, like, my pseudo-dads, and walking in on your parents kissing is always weird. But it’s not any weirder than if you guys were human? If that’s your question? Or if you mean ‘cause you’re both guys, or whatever the Cybertronian equivalent is, I don’t really care about that either.” 

“...Oh.”

Optimus smiled, and leaned down to plant a kiss on Ratchet’s forehead. “I told you that your fears were unfounded, old friend.”

Raf looked at Ratchet, eyes wide. “You were scared? That we wouldn’t accept you or something?” He set his laptop down so he could run over and latch onto Ratchet’s pede, looking up at the bewildered medic. “I’m sorry if we made you feel that way! Or, if we made you feel like you guys had to hide anything! I promise it wasn’t on purpose, I can’t speak for Jack and Miko but I don’t think any of us would want you to feel like you couldn’t be yourselves!”

There was a soft laugh, and Optimus reached down to gently scoop up Rafael and deposit him on Ratchet’s shoulder, where the medic immediately shifted his plating to accommodate his new passenger a bit better.

“So did Fowler… Was he making it up?”

Optimus pursed his lips. “I don’t believe he thought he was. I think it’s simply a matter of… a difference in audience.” He reached over to gentle ruffle Raf’s hair with one careful fingertip. “I have found, after paying a great deal of attention, that the youths of this planet tend to be more accepting than their adult counterparts.”

Ratchet huffed. “So, basically what you’re saying is that we’ve been sneaking around for no good reason?”

“That is basically what I’m saying.”

Raf scooted over to lean against the side of Ratchet’s head. The medic tilted his head to give him a better perch. “So how long have you guys been dating?” he asked, mindful of his volume now that he was so close to the medic’s audial sensors. “And are you dating, or is it more serious? Like, long term?”

“We have been together for several thousand years. And it is slightly more serious; the term used for this context is ‘Conjunx Endurae.’” 

“Oh, Bee explained those to me,” Raf said with a nod. “He said he’d never had one, and he’d been brought online during the war and not many people were getting together then, so he didn’t _really_ have a very good explanation, but I got it. Best I can, being organic and a kid, anyways.” He grinned. “I know I’m a couple thousand years late, but congratulations, you guys. I’m really happy for you.”

Ratchet huffed, but it was more of a laugh, and he reached up to carefully take hold of Raf and carefully cradle him in one hand rather than risk him getting jostled whenever the medic moved. Raf grabbed onto his thumb to keep himself steady.

With the space between them clearer, Optimus leaned down and kissed Ratchet again. The medic gave a startled squawk, and Raf made a fake disgusted noise (though didn’t even try to hide his giggling), and Optimus smiled and laughed warmly. “What a lovely little place we’ve found,” he said, quietly. “And what a lovely little family we’ve built.”

Ratchet blinked, and Raf saw his eyes go wide. “After all this time,” he spoke even softer than Optimus had. “We finally found it.”  
  


“That we did, old friend.” He cupped the side of the medic’s helm, stared at him for just a moment, then smiled and pulled away. “Come, now,” he said as he stooped to pick up Raf’s laptop and hand it over to him. “I believe Rafael had something he wanted to show you.”

“Ah! Right,” he took the offered laptop, leaning back against Ratchet’s curled fingers to keep himself steady while he booted up the machine. “I think I figured out a bypass for that sway in Bulkhead’s steering, but I’m still not entirely sure how the Cybertronian version of impulse centers connect to your engines.” He went on to explain his idea in detail, how the Wrecker probably hadn’t even noticed he was a few degrees off and kept having to course-correct, and what kind of alterations the program would make to his navigation system to fix it.

“It’s not bad,” Ratchet muttered appreciatively, which meant he was impressed. “Could use some changes, though. See here--”

As he predictably went on about the various changes that needed to be made, Raf couldn’t help but smile. As much as the ‘bots might manage to surprise him once in a while, he’d pretty much gotten them figured out. And he was perfectly happy with that.

* * *

“I don’t get this planet, Optimus,” Ratchet murmured, deep into the night and long after the humans had been brought home and the rest of the team had gone to bed, curled up against Optimus’s side with the Prime wrapped around him. While they knew there was no longer a council to give them a critical eye, and that their teammates wouldn’t care whether this was technically against the rules, centuries of habit didn’t go away in a few months.

“Oh?” the Prime shifted them around so he could reach Ratchet’s head to plant a kiss against his chevron. “Besides perhaps the varied climate, what about it is so confusing, my dear?”

He sighed. “The people?”

“Ah.” With lighter digits than most would think a big mech like the Prime capable of having, he traced the red lines intersecting Ratchet’s chassis. “I assume this is in reference to our earlier interaction with young Rafael?”

“Yep.” 

Optimus made a quiet humming noise. “He seemed remarkably not-confused, actually. Quite understanding of the whole situation.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Humans were so contradictory. One of them would say one thing, and the other would say another thing, and they would be completely different, but both would believe their side to be unequivocally true. They were a lot like Cybertronians in that way, he supposed. So much variance among them for such a small species. “Agent Fowler had said they humans wouldn’t understand… us. What we are to each other. But Rafael seemed to get it as soon as we explained.”

  
“I did mention that the children tended to be more understanding than the adults.”   
  


“Yes, but _why?_ Wouldn’t you think that the adults, with such a variety of experiences, would be more understanding of new things? And that the children, for all they don’t know about the world, would be more unsettled by what they don’t understand?”

“On the contrary,” Optimus said, “I would think it would be the opposite. When the children are young, everything is new, therefore _everything_ is something they don’t understand. Having to constantly be adapting to the world around them makes them far more well-adjusted to new developments. Meanwhile, the adults have grown and gotten to a point where they believe they have a firm understanding of how the world works, and changes that upset the status quo they follow are far more likely to be disturbing. The adults’ experiences, rather than making them open to new things, have instead made them rigid and stubborn. While the children’s innocence, rather than making them afraid of that which is foreign to them, has made them understanding and open to new things.” 

“See, this is what I mean,” Ratchet grumbled, at which Optimus laughed softly. “So confusing. They don’t work like they should, it makes no sense.”

“The best things in life are often bewildering, my dear.” The Prime splayed his servo across Ratchet’s chestplate. “For instance, I have found that there are certain aspects of _you_ that escape my understanding. But I do not get mad, or discouraged, I simply recognize that we are different mechs and move on.”

  
He glanced up at his partner. “And you’re suggesting I do that?”

“I know quite well that you will do whatever you’d like,” Optimus said, and Ratchet muttered a quiet “damn right” as he continued speaking, “but I do encourage you to be patient with our human allies. Yes, even the more intolerant of them. They are still so young in the grand scheme of things.” His servo had moved at some point to rest over Ratchet’s spark. “They may be ignorant, but I do not believe any of the humans we find ourselves allies with mean any harm to us simply because of who we are.”

“Not the kids, certainly,” Ratchet conceded. “They might talk a big talk, especially Miko, but talk is all they are. Bunch’a softies.”

“Ratchet, the youngest of them is twelve.”

“I said what I said.”

Optimus laughed again, quiet and warm and simultaneously so in love with and exasperated by Ratchet’s attitude. “Come now, surely you remember what it was like to be so young. You were forged, were you not?”

“I was. But no, I don’t remember,” he said, stubbornly, “it was too long ago.”

“You are not _that_ old.”

“I am old, though,” Ratchet said, sighing. “We both are. Really old. Been around too long, it’s a wonder our joints haven’t started to rust. Especially now that personal maintenance involves jumping through so many more hoops these days.” He lowered his voice a bit. “...I had thought the time for us to be able to have a family had passed. That we were both beyond the age it was possible.”

“In the traditional sense, I believe we are, although I would have to defer to the medical professional. However, in the more general definition, if our time on this planet has proven nothing else it has proven that one can find a family at any age, if one is open to a less traditional structure of such.”

“Damn kids,” the medic muttered with nothing but fondness in his tone, “how’d I go and get so attached, huh? Didn’t expect to end up caring so much.” He paused. “Don’t you dare tell them I said that.”

“My dear,” Optimus said, leaning down to kiss him once more, “I won’t say a word.”


End file.
